


In Plain Sight

by marveltrash (daredevilfics)



Series: In Plain Sight [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, Hannibal and Will switch in bed, Light Bondage, M/M, Will Graham is a Tease, hannibal is hopelessly in love, will graham is a little bit of a masochist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 02:51:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17716646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daredevilfics/pseuds/marveltrash
Summary: Filling in the blanks of Season 2, because Will is obviously seducing Hannibal in more ways than one. Mostly Will’s POV, with some Hannibal perspective too. Moral of the story: Will is in too deep and absolutely won’t admit it, especially to himself.





	In Plain Sight

Will was, as always, acutely aware of how closely Hannibal watched him as he moved across the office. 

Even when Hannibal’s eyes--and hands--were elsewhere, part of him would always listen and indulge himself in the scent and sounds of Will, noting where the tension in his body rested and where it deflected. Hannibal was particularly interested in how Will acted when he knew he was being observed. Of course, now that Will was trying to get his attention--now that he was practically inviting Hannibal to check him out--he was aware of the scrutiny in a way he’d never consciously realized, before.

He spared Jack these details. All Jack cared about were results. It didn’t really matter how they got from Point A to Point B. And their intimacy could never be faked, anyway. The only remarkable thing was how...normal it all was. Like this could have happened naturally between them, if left to their own devices. Maybe, given enough time, it would have happened. 

Will couldn’t decide if that thought was comforting or not. 

He held his wine glass to his lips, considering the fireplace in Hannibal’s office. Behind him, perched over a sheet of butcher’s paper at his desk, Hannibal sketched another scene from the Iliad. The symbolism was hard to ignore. Most of Hannibal’s romantic overtures were...hard to ignore. Now that Will had seen behind the curtain, at least. 

“Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another,” Hannibal quoted softly, shading in the hair on Patroclus’ dark, curly locks. 

Will felt a quick chill, low in his stomach. Hannibal turned to consider him, warmly. “You know I enjoy your pensiveness, Will, but your silence suggests something hiding in your heart.” He smirked, just a little, and Will relaxed. 

That would happen, occasionally. Hannibal would say something to suggest--to hint--that he knew, that he knew all of this was a ruse. And everything would shift into terrible focus until the moment passed. After weeks of this, Will was starting to adjust. He couldn’t let his paranoia get the better of him. Too much was at stake. 

He stepped away from the fire and, leaning over Hannibal’s shoulder, set his wine down above the butcher’s paper. As he leaned, he turned to brush his lips against Hannibal’s temple, only barely. Practically chaste. “If it is, it’s hiding in plain sight.” 

Hannibal reacted to this touch as if Will had sent an electric current through him. His grip tightened on his pencil and he had to set it aside, for fear of it breaking, and he strained to collect himself and form a response. It was like that every time--no matter how small, how reserved, Will’s slightest touch practically undid Hannibal. 

He couldn’t deny that it was a thrill, having that effect on Hannibal. It was playing with fire, of course. And Will couldn’t admit why it pleased him so much--right now, he couldn’t afford to scrutinize why his feelings were more genuine than not. But he loved watching how Hannibal reacted. 

He figured this must be pretty close to how Hannibal feels all the time. 

“You overestimate my hunting abilities, then,” Hannibal teased, turning in his chair to lightly put an arm around Will’s waist, looking up at the other man as Will leaned against the desk, against Hannibal’s drawing. Pretty rude of him. But he knew Hannibal wouldn’t care. “Since I have trouble believing what I’m seeing.” 

After a moment, Will touched the side of Hannibal’s face, looking curious, not too warm. It had taken him long enough to reach this point without raising suspicion. He grazed his thumb down Hannibal’s cheek, caressing, familiar. “What are you seeing?” 

“You. In ways I never dreamed,” he readily answered, looking breathless as Will touched him. The fire reflected red in his eyes as he watched Will. 

Will pushed his thumb between Hannibal’s lips, silently claiming him. Just as Hannibal had claimed him, several times over now. Most recently on this desk, actually. 

His eyes shone and he obliged, opening his mouth for Will with the distinct curiosity of someone who had rarely been claimed so flagrantly. Despite his preoccupation with his own dignity, Hannibal could never resist the temptation to see just what, exactly, would happen. Of course, there are certain allowances he would only ever make for Will--and truthfully, he could only be interested in such a situation with Will. 

Watching Will with power, in control of himself and extending that control to him--it was intoxicating. Hannibal would say that he’d lost himself in the feeling, if it were possible for him to be fixated on only one thing without entertaining other trains of thought. 

Another current train of thought, for example: picturing how Will would look naked in the firelight, draped handsomely on the dark Persian rug, back arched to him. In the past, he contained such thoughts about Will--knowing how unlikely it would be that he could ever act on them--but now, he could take Will and explore him fully, reverently, just as he was doing now. 

His fingers pushed underneath Will’s shirt and he leaned forward, kissing his stomach and then he stood, taking Will’s hands into his own as he pushed him back against the fireplace and into a surprisingly soft kiss. Soft, but insistent--like waves, a deep current pulling Will under until he couldn’t breathe. Or until he didn’t have to. 

Some part of Will knew that he wasn’t really pretending. This wasn’t part of the act, part of Jack’s plan, part of any plan. This was what he’d dreamed about, had nightmares about, woken up drenched and inexplicably warm about. 

Maybe this would have happened anyway. Should have happened. 

He pressed back against Hannibal, feeling the fire’s heat against the back of his legs as Hannibal cradled his head so it didn’t graze the stone slabs of the fireplace. Holding him just so he wouldn’t burn, but only just. 

“Please,” Will breathed, feeling that little thrill of the power he had over Hannibal, knowing what it would do to him just to hear him beg. Like he had before. 

Immediately, Hannibal’s eyes brightened, and he pushed his fingers through Will’s hair, not unlike that of Patroclus, gazing at him with quiet reverence. And still, some disbelief at his own luck, to have Will offering himself to him. 

It was that look that made Will feel...almost guilty. 

When this started--Jack’s plan--he didn’t realize, at first, that Hannibal might genuinely love him. The thought was terrifying. Exhilarating. Unexpected. When it came to predicting Hannibal, Will only found himself at a loss when he considered what Hannibal would do out of love. 

Anything, probably. 

Will leaned closer, breathing just next to Hannibal’s ear, just barely teasing with his tongue. “I’m all yours,” he sighed. 

At once, Hannibal could no longer contain himself. He rarely lapsed control in his own actions--even when having sex, as it was generally for a greater purpose--but with Will, all bets were off. He could lose himself so easily in Will’s body, in his touch, that it left him in a vulnerable state he would loathe in any other circumstance. 

Hannibal guided Will down onto the carpet and pinned his hands there above his head, unnecessarily. Only to watch how Will’s lips parted in surprise and enjoyment at being restrained, only to watch how Will’s now messy hair gleamed in the firelight. An idea took hold of him and Hannibal, a smile threatening to creep over his expression, quickly undid his oxford paisley tie so he could wrap it around Will’s wrist and execute a fisherman’s knot.  
Will looked a bit red, since Hannibal had clearly noticed his...interest in bondage. It was probably a no-brainer for a psychologist to figure out, but still. He eyed Hannibal’s shirt collar, feeling warm at how messy it looked without the tie, and strained against his bonds on the carpet. If he wasn’t so goddamn hard already, he’d realize he was trussed up like a Christmas chicken. 

Hannibal, thoroughly enjoying the sight of Will struggling beneath him more than he thought he would, leans over to gingerly kiss and caress his subdued lover. 

“Would you like more from me, Will?” He sucks a little at the skin on Will’s collarbone, leaving a small bruise there which he kisses. The tenderness of his actions always send a strange chill through Will’s spine, leaves goosebumps on his skin. Those same hands have ruined him, before, just because he could. 

“Yes,” Will admitted, feeling a rush at finally, finally giving himself to Hannibal. “God, yes,” he laughed at himself. 

Hannibal smiled outright and undid Will’s trousers, watching him strain against the well-executed knot. 

When Hannibal swallowed down the length of Will’s cock, holding Will still underneath him on the carpet, Will gasped and saw stars in the reflecting firelight. He hadn’t been expecting that--but maybe he should have. Whenever they fucked, Hannibal only seemed focused on one thing: Will’s pleasure. Even if that meant tying him down. ‘Helping him to relax,’ as he once called it. 

Hannibal pressed his thumb and fingers hard on Will’s hips, shifting him in place to better suck and tease his cock, and Will moaned, eyes crossing closed. His hands were tied a little too tight, but that’s how he liked it. “Oh, God--Hannibal--” 

Hannibal pressed his fingers harder into Will’s skin, as if encouraging him. He seemed to enjoy marking Will, leaving trails of bruises across his skin--mostly because Will enjoys it so. 

Will, now greedy, arched his hips so that Hannibal was forced to take more of him. Amazingly, Hannibal obliged, letting Will set the pace and how much he’s given. Dizzy with want and a sudden rush of power--despite being tied up--Will moved his hips more forcefully, feeling his orgasm start to build as Hannibal took him over and over again. 

Hannibal's name just barely left his lips when he comes, and he watched glassy-eyed as Hannibal swallows most of him through it. He’s gorgeous. 

Afterwards, with no immediate thought for his own gratification, Hannibal laid himself on top of Will to kiss him. Will tasted his own come on the other’s lips--which is enough to make his cock twinge again--and strained against his bonds, wishing he could wrap his arms around Hannibal. 

“You certainly enjoyed yourself,” he teased, staring up at Hannibal’s red eyes in the firelight. 

“As did you.” Hannibal’s voice is rough, even if his expression is soft. He’s not finished yet. 

Will tilted his head towards the desk suggestively, eyeing it, then looked back to Hannibal with a smirk. He tilted his hips up for emphasis. 

“Looks like you’ve got me cornered, doctor. I’d hate for you to take advantage.” 

Hannibal’s expression, momentarily surprised, darkened with pleasure, and he quickly pulled Will upright so he could bend him over his desk.


End file.
